


Stars & Heights

by coeurastronaute



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Space AU, The reverse canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 03:52:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15900336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coeurastronaute/pseuds/coeurastronaute
Summary: Clarke and rest of the grounders are the last surviving group on Earth, and because of a second impending nuclear apocalyptical doom, they have to take a ship into space with hopes of making contact with the Ark space station, which they’d lost contact with years ago.





	1. Preface

The voices attached to the barely lit visages grew quieter and prone to more frequent and longer pauses between worried remarks and fierce rebuttals. Deep in the bunker in the lowest level, down past the leaking pipes and hissing pumps, beneath the frequented halls and rows and rows and rows of rooms and living quarters, the secret meeting of the Council stalled.

“We haven’t had any contact with it in what? Seventy years?” a voice fret rubbing a calloused hand along the faint threat of stubble along his jaw line. “It could be completely uninhabitable.”

“We’ve caught chatter. You know some have survived there,” another argued, leaning back in her chair. 

“Those radios are older than the war. It could have been an animal or interference. It’s too irregular to say for sure.” 

“The Ark has been dark for longer than any of us have been alive,” the chair opposite squealed slightly as he shifted and spoke, reasonable and measured. “But it is still there. It should still have supplies and be marginally livable, which is all we need right now.”

“What about the other stations? The last actual communication was caught from the OPEK and that was incomprehensible yelling, over a decade ago.” 

“This is ridiculous,” the woman finally interrupted. “Even if there is a station, even if the Ark is sustainable, even if we can launch, you do realize we are proposing to send 100 children into space with no actual training or preparation.” 

“Criminals.” 

“Children, nonetheless.”

“What other option do we have? The reactors have passed critical failure points. We don’t have any time.” 

“This is murder,” she said, standing, pausing for a moment. Her knuckles dragged along the worn, ragged tabletop until her fingers dropped against her thighs. “We can’t.” 

“We must,” the final voice began, leaning forward from the darkness until his face was finally lit beneath the singular light hanging over the table. 

Just outside the door, the machines clicked, lights blinked, and just past that, people lived and dwelled as they had for longer than any could remember, for so many generations that most forgot the world existed outside of their little community. 

“Do we have to vote, or are we in agreement?” 

“I won’t.” 

“Abby,” he chided her gently. 

“Don’t. Don’t you dare,” she growled, pulling her arms around herself, setting her jaw and taking her seat again. “Those are just children.” 

“Maybe. But they’re our only chance right now.” 

“Thelonious?” she turned her head to the slightly obscured figure, still leaning back and listening quietest of the bunch. 

“For the good of the whole,” he swallowed and leaned forward. 

“That’s your son. My daughter,” she shook her head. 

“They’re all someone’s child,” Kane insisted. “Do I have to call a vote or can we continue?” 

“Call it. There should be one person opposed.”

“Abby…” 

“Do it.” 

Deep in the bowels of the colony, hidden behind layers of concrete and the now overgrown foliage outside, the Council sat, once more at the tiny, wobbly table beneath the fluorescent hum of the singular light bulb, ready to begin the plans for the final Exodus.


	2. Chapter 2

There was a noise to the station that fought against the overbearing silence of space, a gentle whirring and hum of the twirling gyroscope groaned through the sky with a twang that was barely audible beneath the constant sound of vents and life. From the center pillar, the lookout point saw the entire way around the giant rings that never stopped moving and twirling, keeping them perpetually unstill despite the need to feel such. The glass glittered like the few remaining cities on the ground, almost blending in with the stars.

“There was activity from the ground,” a voice murmured behind the Commander’s back. She did not turn around, but simply remained staring through the large windows.

The quiet made the informant antsy, though he knew better than to say more than was necessary, though knowing when to leave without being directed was a bit of a learning curve. He waited a few more minutes before swallowing and leaving just as the she crossed her arms and turned her head to look at the planet below.

From her spot in the middle of her entire world, she stared longingly at the ground, almost memorizing it in so many different ways. Her parents told her stories that their parents told them that their parents told them that they heard from the last survivors who breathed real air and who felt real sun and who tasted real water and who felt real dirt and rain and heat and the world itself beneath their feet. She spent hours reading about it, learning about it, fantasizing about the sheer magnitude of it. The rumblings of life beneath made her wonder how close they could be to touching the ground once more.

“They launched, Lexa. Two hours ago,” another voice interrupted the solitude of her planning. “No sign of communication yet.”

“Do they know we’re here?”

“I don’t know. They are not heading towards us. It seems they’ve reached orbit.”

Only after a few more seconds of pondering the ground did Lexa turn around to meet the eyes of her advisor and friend. She sighed before crossing her hands behind her back.

“Take Indra and a crew to intercept–”

“We can’t bring them–” Anya stalled, a flurry of worry splashing over her face.

“Take them to the old Settlement station and find out who they are, what they want.”

“If they do not know we are here, we should leave them alone. Let them take care of themselves.”

“Do you think they’ll miss a giant spinning machine orbiting their home?”

“They have so far,” Anya argued and shrugged. “Heda, we are just getting to be prosperous, just acclimating to the admission of the last two stations. The ground is a dangerous place.”

“We might be able to go home, Anya. That’s the goal. That has always been the goal.”

“Let me observe them first.”

“Go,” Lexa sighed and turned back to her window. “But either we get them, or the Mountain will. And their knowledge is priceless.”

“Yes, Heda.”

She didn’t see her bow out, though the Commander knew she did. Instead, Lexa leaned her forehead against the cool glass and closed her eyes for a moment before opening them once more and staring down at the world.

The ground suddenly felt closer. So many hours had been spent pouring over reports of those on the ground, trying to listen and see if they could be heard, but instead, all that she heard was silence. Those who remained were a mystery and Lexa was suddenly confronted with the very thing.

There was a calmness that came when she escaped from the war room. Lexa ran swiftly through the field before kicking a ball across the field, earning the stampede of little feet towards it. The cheers from those watching echoed through the hall.

* * *

“It’s cheating!” a little voice called as Lexa picked up another and placed her on her shoulders. “You’re too tall!”

 

“It’s called teamwork,” Lexa laughed, balancing the girl and moving around the goal.

“Can you do the airplane thing?” the little girl asked, still holding tightly onto Lexa’s head.

“We’re supposed to be goalies.”

“This is boring. I want to fly like you.”

“You’re a little little to fly just yet,” Lexa dipped slightly. “But soon.”

“Commander, please!” she whined.

“Fine, but if they score, we’ll be in trouble.”

From the crowd, the gaggle of onlookers heading home or stopping by to grab their kids after school. It was rare to have such a young leader, but of the twelve countries that came together, the young war hero and brilliant strategist was the best they had since they left the ground. She won everyone over in moments like this, when she was just a kid herself who enjoyed sneaking away and playing a pickup game of soccer in the agro station.

As soon as the word came, Gustus moved to find the Commander. He gave her an extra few minutes of running around with a little airplane on her shoulders because he knew that things were about to change completely, and he loved to see her like this, the few moments she allowed. Sometimes it was difficult to remember that she was young and bore the burden of a thousand lives.

When Lexa met his look, she waited for a moment before nodding, the smile only faltering slightly on her face.

“Alright, I have to head back to the Tower,” she said loudly, earning disappointed objections from the group of kids. “Go on. Get out of here kids.”

The complaints died away as she ruffled hair and waved to parents as her personal advisor and mentor approached and began to whisper the happenings in the Tower. Lexa raised her hand and quieted his worries as they walked through the halls until they reached the elevator. She entered her password and grit her teeth as it ascended.

“The kids were glad to have you today,” Gustus murmured.

“A nice distraction.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Miss it?”

“Being a kid?”

“I was never a kid,” Lexa shrugs before pushing out of the elevator and into the brain of the giant station.

It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t as if Lexa had a moment in her time in which she was worry-free like the kids she played with. It wasn’t as if she had parents who made her study or come home or anything of the sort. Instead, she lied; enlisted early in Defense and fought like she was ready to die at the Battle of the Station. And when the Mountain Colony attacked, she was the only one that survived, she was the one that crippled their colony on the opposite side of the Moon, and she was a symbol. She was the one with the Light of the Commanders now. 

“What is the news?” the Commander asked as she took her place in the middle of it all. She stared at the monitors surrounding a large portion of the brain of the station.

She hated the noise and activity of it. The fabricated lights and the sheer crowding that existed with the servers and equipment and screens and pixels and people. She preferred the floor above, the one with the window, that gazed out at not only the entire vastness of the universe, but instead also upon the finite resources of the home she fought to ensure. Swirling around her, the many levels and gyrating lengths of the gigantic machine was her kingdom, and she felt like she had never seen anything so wondrous until she would tilt her head and look at Earth.

“The shuttle from the ground has put out a distress beacon,” someone said, barely turning away from the screen in front of them. “It’s been active for almost two hours now.”

“Any chance the Mountain hasn’t heard?”

“None at all unless their communications are completely crippled.” Lexa pondered and nodded as her jaw ran tight.

“Where are they going?”

“We’ve plotted a few of the options.”

“Up on the big screen,” Lexa commanded, her eyes darting back and forth between the options once they appeared. “Do you think they are looking for the Mountain?”

“They’ve reached orbit and have since not made any movements toward any specific location.”

“What about the old scavenging station?” Anya stepped forward and pointed at the map. “If they know what’s up here, they might try to find some place to establish a base.”

“They haven’t had communication with any satellites for years and years,” Gustus shook his head. “It would be a long shot. They’ll look for the real thing.”

“The Mountain,” Lexa nodded.

“The Space Station,” Anya offered. “Last communication that we heard from them came there.”

“We should send a welcome party.”

“What?” The chorus erupted around her, but Lexa did not hesitate at all. She did the calculations in her head, knew that whoever or whatever just came up from the ground was going to be the game changer, was going to decide what their future was, and their information was invaluable, indispensable, and she needed it before the Mountain got it.

“Get me Indra on the Bridge,” she decided, turning around and taking her seat in the middle of it all. No one moved for a long beat as she adjusted, pretending not to notice their stunned looks and nervous glances at each other.

“Lexa, you can’t–”

“Anya, get me Indra on the Bridge.”

“Yes, Commander.”

“We are going to welcome these new guests.”

“What if they have already spoken to them?”

“Then we are going to kill these new guests. But either way, we’re not letting the Mountain get anything ever again. And that includes the ground.”

In the quiet at the top of the central tower, Lexa watched the entire thing as it happened. She watched her ships explode, watched lives end in the absolute silence of space and with little more than a small growl in the base of her throat. 

“Ark to Shuttle one-seven-zero,” the Commander said again. “This is the Commander of the Twelve Stations. My men were there to bring you in to meet and discuss a truce. Suffice it to say, that is no longer an option.”

The radio crackled and fizzed the quiet between voices. Lexa just watched the remnants of the second ship floating away across the sky.

“Fuck off, Ark.”

The rebuttal made Lexa grin that angry kind of scowl that was genuinely amused at first. She stared at the offending ship and toyed with the controller in her hand.

“No… Commander!” voices yelled from the ship. “We– are– Help. Not.– To– The–”

The leader watched the ship and debated.

“If you would like to talk, there will be a liaison at the old Space Station in two hours. Decide your fate, Shuttle.”

Angry and nostrils flaring, Lexa stared at the ship, at the remnants of her welcome party and felt a vengeance she almost missed the weight of upon her shoulders. She’d been worried she’d lost it, but there it sat, welcoming her like an old friend.

“We will be there,” a voice came across the radio. It was different than the voice before, calmer, more authoritative and less juvenile. It reasoned through the speakers. “We mean you no harm.”

The radio fizzled and Lexa held it up to her mouth but decided against saying anything else.

“You can’t meet with them. They killed our people,” Anya appeared a second later, eyes wide at the site.

“You will go meet with them. Just you. I will take Indra and Gus to their ship.”

“Just three of you?”

“And the Fifth. A real welcome party.”

They shared a smile and looked back out, peering across the horizon at the ship that moved to a different course.

“Just like old times,” Anya decided, cracking her neck as she shifted it to the side.

“Except we don’t know this enemy.”

“All enemies are the same.”

“We’ll see soon enough.”

There was a peace that came when everything was silent. The world didn’t matter, and the chaos was impending, but still, the leader of the entire universe did not have a thought other than to wonder about the girl on the screen. 

Short, and blonde, and sassy, if that was a word the Commander would ever use, the speaker of the invaders was strong and stubborn and genuine. Quietly, in the calm of her chambers, Lexa rolled the footage back and watched her move again; watched her shrug and grin and furrow before staring precisely. 

The Ark slept, and she remained, studying and watching, preparing as she always did. When the footage got to be too much, when all of the thoughts swirling around broke her down, the Commander pushed herself up and began to mosey through the empty halls. 

It was no secret that a favorite nighttime activity of the leader was distracted strolls through empty halls. Guards saw it and turned their backs, allowing her the privacy of her own thoughts when most of the time it was not allowed. At night, she was allowed to be herself. 

The seat in the middle of the tower was historically the seat of the leader, the Commander. The night before she was to ascend, Lexa remembered a similar quiet that lived in the halls. She remembered the naive innocence in which she looked at the chair and could not believe that she was going to sit there. She did not allow herself to even try it before she was allowed. She stared at it for a second before she taking a seat. 

Heavy was the head. 

Just hours before she had conversations with families who lost their own, and Lexa did not grew better at those. 

All of it swirled around in her head while she tried to keep it straight, tried to plot a few moves ahead, tried to foresee some of the ends to which they could reach. She ended up nowhere, very quickly. The ground was supposed to be dead, but now there was hope, and it was intoxicating. 

“Heda?” a timid night watchman cleared his throat as he entered the epicenter of thought and planning of the Ark. Stoic and unmoving, she sat there, eyes fixed but mind very far away. “Excuse me, Heda?” 

“Yes?” 

“I have someone on the radio for you,” he swallowed. “A grounder.” 

“Patch them through here,” she muttered with a wave of her hand. 

What the watchman didn’t see was the way she sat up a bit, the way she gripped the armrest a little tighter. She held her breath and waited.


End file.
